by Beth Martin
“Then I’ll give you a ride to the airport,” she offered.
He nodded. “Thanks.”
···
During his entire time at SLAU, Peter had only collaborated with Dr. Hall, a decision he now regretted. No one knew where Dr. Hall had gone, and he wasn’t responding to Peter’s emails. Peter needed to find another geologist with enough clout to help him survey the aftermath of Last Chance.
“Dr. Brock?” Peter said, poking his head into a colleague’s office.
“Please, Peter. Call me Stacey,” she said, turning her chair away from her computer screen to face him. She removed her glasses and set them beside her keyboard. She was dressed in her usual tight-fitting pencil skirt and cream, button-up blouse. As the co-chair of the department, she had the power to help Peter get the equipment he needed.
“Stacey,” Peter said, tentatively taking a step into the doorway. “I need some help with the Colorado earthquakes. I was hoping you could loan me some of the survey equipment from the department.”
“I heard about your paper for Journal of Earth and Planetary Science from Ian. You looking for the data to support your claims? Because, I have to admit, it’s pretty far fetched, and I’m not sure I can get on board.”
He took a deep breath before explaining, “No, I have reason to believe the earthquakes were creating using a bomb. Well, several bombs, to be precise.”
Stacey erupted into a fit of laughter. Her laugh was low and throaty, shaking her body with each new wave of chuckles. She bent forward, trying to catch her breath between laughs. By the time she calmed down she was rubbing tears from her eyes.
“Oh, Peter,” she said. “I needed that. That was a good one.”
“I’m serious.” He stood completely still, upset that she found such a serious topic so comical.
She wore a stern expression to match Peter’s tone. “To suggest that a bomb set off an earthquake of that proportion is ludicrous.”
“Bombs, plural. And both earthquakes, not just one of them,” he corrected.
She returned to whatever she had been doing on her computer. “Terry has all of the department’s survey equipment at the moment. You’ll have to ask him if you need to use any of it.”
Peter wasn’t sure what to say. Why did Dr. Hall have the survey equipment? Where was he?
“Close the door behind you, please,” she added. She picked up her reading glasses and put them back on, concentrating once more on her computer screen.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Peter liked keeping connected to people in his past using social media. He had been so busy recently, he hadn’t logged into his Facebook account in a long time. When he did, he found a message waiting for him.
“Eileen Young wants to be your friend,” he read. Really? He clicked confirm and looked at her page. Reading over her recent posts, he saw pictures of all the interesting food she had eaten, along with lots of pictures of her out with friends. There were images of travel and sunsets, hiking trails, and kayaking among glaciers. In all the time that Dr. Hall had gone dark, she had been posting details about her own life.
On the day of the second earthquake, when she and Dr. Hall had left in the middle of the night, she had posted a photo of a fortune cookie broken apart, showing the sliver of white paper with, “Life is not a mystery to be solved, but a reality to be experienced,” written on it in red ink. She had added a caption to the picture, “My favorite take-out with my favorite person ;-)”
After that were images from a ski trip with her family in the mountains. He tried to find any hint of where Dr. Hall might be, but she never mentioned him on her page, and Peter doubted the man was wasting time at a ski resort.
Before he knew it, he was scouring all of the content on her page, trying to find any clue that she or Dr. Hall had been involved in planting explosives in Colorado. She had aerial pictures of the sunset in Last Chance, probably taken from Dr. Hall’s drone.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed with no window in his office. When he emerged from the basement, hungry enough to take a break from snooping on all of Eileen’s social media, it was fully dark outside. Many of the restaurants on campus were long closed.
As Peter slowly meandered around, trying to think of a place that would still be open after hours, his phone gave a shrill chirp.
He had received a text message from Blake. Hey friend. I’m at the Rita’s, the bar next to Chandelier. You should come hang.
Well, bars did have food. Peter messaged back, Sure, I’ll be there soon.
···
Peter had rationalized going to the bar to meet up with Blake, telling himself that he would have spent the same amount getting dinner at a deli. But the cab ride to Rita’s had cost as much as three deli sandwiches, and he knew that the food at the bar would probably be expensive as well.
“My man,” Blake exclaimed, grabbing Peter’s hand before pulling him into a hug. “I’m so glad you decided to show up. I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“You caught me at a good time,” Peter said. He took a seat next to Blake at the bar and ordered a black-bean burger. Blake insisted on buying him a beer, even though Peter didn’t really want to drink.
Blake poked at his phone. “The girls are next door at Chandelier.”
“The girls?” Peter asked between bites of his burger.
“Sandra and Grace. You want to go over there once you’re done with your food?”
“No,” Peter insisted. “It’s not really my scene.”
“Yeah, I’m not really in the mood myself. I’ll just tell them to come over here.”
Before Peter knew it, Blake had typed out a text and hit send. A minute later, he said, “Okay, they’ll be here in a few.”
“Shoot,” Peter muttered before taking a last gulp of his drink. “I should go.”
“Wait,” Blake said, grasping Peter’s arm and preventing him from getting up from his bar stool. “You just got here. What’s the big rush?”
“I can’t see Grace. I’m not ready to see her again.”
“Why not? Did something happen between you two?”
Peter stood, and Blake didn’t stop him this time. “She said that she had to ‘get over me,’ and that all of our interactions were a lie.”
“Hmm,” Blake said, idly fixing his hair with his hand. “Honestly, that sounds like girl speak for her admitting she’s afraid of how strong her feelings are for you. Katherine did the same to me. Now’s your time to strike.” He jabbed a finger at Peter’s chest. “When Katherine said she needed a break, I proposed the very next week. Now we’re getting married in a few months.”
“Strike?” Peter pulled at his beard, nervous about the chance of running into Grace. He needed to get out of the bar. “We were only friends; I’m not planning on proposing to her.”
Blake rotated his stool from side to side. “If she needed to get over you, then she obviously didn’t see you two as simply friends. And come on, man, a man and woman can’t remain just friends. Sex always comes into play.”
Peter was about to argue against Blake’s grotesque oversimplification of relationships, but held his tongue as Sandra and Grace entered the bar.
“Blake!” Sandra squealed, running up to him and engaging him in a deep kiss. Maybe sex did come into play in all of Blake’s relationships with women.
“Hey, Blake,” Grace said, not looking up from her phone as she tapped quickly at the screen. She looked breathtaking with her hair pristinely straight, dark makeup, and a dose of glitter around her eyes. Her little party dress was white with silver trim and clung close to her body. Just looking at her strappy high heels made Peter’s feet hurt. There was no doubt she was dressed to impress and wanted to catch everyone’s attention.
“I think we met once before,” Sandra said to Peter. “I’m Sandra.” She looked like the exact opposite of Grace with her hair curled and wearing a flowy black dress.
“Yes, we did,” Peter said, accepting her
brief hug.
Grace’s eyes glanced up quickly at the sound of his voice. She tucked her phone away in her bag and said, “Hello, Peter.”
“Grace.” He nodded his head briefly to acknowledge her.
“I don’t get a hug?” Blake asked, holding his arms out. Grace wrapped her arms around him and held him tight for a moment before stepping back.
“Well, I could use a drink,” Sandra said loudly. She sat at the bar and caught the attention of the bartender, ordering a vodka cranberry. “You want one?” she asked Grace.
“No, I don’t want to stain my dress,” Grace said. She sat at the bar next to Sandra and pulled her phone back out.
“What do you want?” Sandra asked.
“Nothing. This place is gross.”
“Okay, Rita’s isn’t really a dive,” Blake said. “But if you want to go somewhere with a little more personality, I know an Middle Eastern restaurant that does hookah.”
“Oh, let’s!” Sandra said. “That sound like fun. What do you think, Grace?”
“Sure, whatever.”
Peter didn’t get a say. As soon as Sandra’s drink arrived she paid in cash, downing her cocktail in a single gulp. She grabbed Grace’s hand and Peter’s, dragging them with her as she followed Blake out of the bar.
They walked for a few blocks in the chilly night air. Grace and Sandra must have been cold in their short dresses, but neither woman complained.
“Here we are,” Blake announced, entering into what appeared to be a typical restaurant. The inside, however, looked like it had been taken from the pages of an Arabian fairy tale. Brightly colored silks draped along the ceiling and walls, giving the appearance of being inside a multicolored tent. Instead of typical tables and chairs, each table was low to the ground, and diners sat on piles of ornate silk pillows on the floor.
Even though the place was crowded, everyone talked in low voices, and soothing relaxation music could be heard over the murmur.
“Okay,” Grace conceded, “this place is cool.” They all sat at a table in the corner and Blake ordered a round of drinks and requested strawberry tobacco and a hookah.
“What is that?” Sandra asked when the server returned with four glasses of cloudy white drinks.
“Arak,” the server said as he set up their hookah.
Blake lifted his glass. “It’s the milk of lions.”
Peter watched as their server set up the glass contraption. The base reminded him of an antique lamp at his grandmother’s house. Once the coals were lit and tobacco added to the tray on top, Blake picked up the hose and breathed in. He exhaled slowly, a stream of white smoke wisping out from between his lips.
Sandra took a turn, blowing out perfect circles of vapor. Even Peter decided to partake, the cool, candy-flavored smoke helping him feel a little more relaxed.
The serene music ended abruptly and was replaced with a bright, rhythmic tune. The atmosphere changed quickly, the quiet patrons suddenly cheering and clapping. It took a moment for Peter to notice the pair of belly dancers who had emerged from the back. They wore brightly colored costumes and played finger cymbals while they danced.
Both Grace and Sandra looked on, wide eyed. “Let’s go,” Grace urged, standing up. They dashed to the dancers’ side, mimicking their sensual moves. A small crowd gathered around the belly dancers, joining in on their dance as they made their way from table to table, encouraging more people to dance with them and tucking tips under the hip scarves of their costumes.
After a few energetic songs, the dancers had made their way across the entire restaurant and gave a bow before disappearing to the back again. The music reverted to soothing tunes, and the reserved and calm atmosphere returned.
“Oh my God, that was so fun,” Sandra gushed as she sat back down.
“I hope you gave those ladies a nice tip,” Grace said, smiling at Blake as she settled on her cushions. She wasn’t being too careful about keeping modest as she shifted, tucking her legs under her, so both Blake and Peter got an eyeful of her flesh-toned panties. Blake flashed Peter a sly smile and gave him a wink.
“What?” Grace asked.
“You look very lovely this evening,” Blake said.
“How do I look?” Sandra asked, sitting up straighter and thrusting her chest forward.
“Positively delicious,” he answered before pulling her to him and giving her another deep kiss.
Grace let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes. Peter chuckled at her reaction. When they finished their embrace, Blake held Sandra close while they took turns puffing at the hookah.
“So, Blake, how’s Katherine?” Grace asked.
“She’s good,” he answered, his voice flat.
“Can we not talk about her?” Sandra shot back, glaring at Grace.
“It’s too bad she couldn’t come out tonight,” Grace pressed. “You did invite her, right?”
“She’s doing that bridal shower vacation thing in Long Island this weekend,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he glared at her.
“Seriously,” Sandra pressed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“You met Katherine,” Grace continued, this time talking to Peter. “She was with Blake at the clean energy gala.” The tension in the group was beginning to make Peter feel uncomfortable. Grace turned back to Sandra. “Peter gave a talk on geothermal energy. It was really entertaining. It’s too bad you weren’t invited.”
Sandra leaned forward and got in Grace’s face. “Fuck. You,” she spat before getting up and storming out of the restaurant.
“Sandra, hold up,” Blake pleaded. He turned to Grace and asked, “What the hell is your problem?” before chasing after Sandra.
Grace took the hookah hose and breathed in deeply of the smoke before offering it to Peter. He took a shallow inhale while watching her closely, then passed the hose back.
“I can’t believe you hang out with that jerk,” she said, her words punctuated by puffs of fragrant smoke.
“He just messaged me out of the blue. I wouldn’t consider him a close friend.”
She drank the rest of her liquor then poured the remaining liquid from Blake and Sandra’s abandoned glasses into her own and drinking that as well.
“So, when do we go back to Last Chance?” she asked.
He took a slow sip of his drink, trying to stall. Grace was already in a bad mood, and he didn’t want to be the next target of her wrath. He set his glass down with a clank against the table. “I already went.”
“Okay.” She nodded, then flagged down the waiter, saying, “Could we get another round of this lion milk stuff, please? Thank you.”
She turned back to Peter. “Did you figure out the cause of the earthquakes? Was it the drilling?”
“Not entirely.” He tried to inhale more from the hookah, but it was spent. “There’s evidence of an explosion—well, series of explosions—in a couple of the wells.”
“Like a bomb?” she asked casually while twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. The server brought fresh drinks and took away the hookah.
“Pretty much,” he said, sipping at his new drink. The arak was strong, and he knew he didn’t need a second glass. Yet here he was, drinking the spiced beverage. They sat for a while, uncomfortable in each other’s company. Peter was relieved when the waiter came back with the check. Grace insisted on paying the tab, and they left soon after.
“You need a ride back to your apartment?” she asked as she got in the backseat of her town car.
He slid in next to her. “Thanks. If you could just drop me off at the SLAU campus.”
“You live on campus? Those apartments are crazy expensive. My dad refuses to spend that much for my rent.”
“I’ve been staying in my office,” he admitted.
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Peter, you can’t live in your office.”
“It’s actually not bad,” he said.
“How do you shower?”
“They have locker rooms with
showers in the student athletic center.”
“You go to the athletic center every day just so you can bathe?”
“Yes. It’s really not that bad.”
“Damn it, Peter,” she shouted. “You can’t live in an office!” Her eyes started tearing up.
He didn’t understand why she was having an overly emotional response to his living situation. Last time they had talked, she was trying to distance herself from him. “Why do you care?” he asked, confused.
“Because I care about you,” she sobbed. “I never stopped caring. I tried, but I couldn’t. I can’t believe you went back to Last Chance without me.” Her dark makeup was now smearing across her face.
He wiped away a tear from her cheek and sighed. “I never stopped caring, either.” He pulled her into a hug, and he didn’t object when she invited him to stay at her apartment for the night.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was later than he’d expected. The bedroom was dark with the blinds shut and curtains closed. Peter peered at the bedside clock. It was almost ten. He needed to head over to his office soon if he didn’t want to be late for his online class’s video conference. With all of his travel back and forth between California and Colorado, he had gotten seriously behind on his grading.
He rolled over, half expecting to find Grace beside him, but he was in the bed alone. Perhaps she was in the kitchen making breakfast. He got up and dressed in his clothes from the previous day, which had been tossed haphazardly on the floor.
She wasn’t in the kitchen either. The coffee maker on the counter was calling to him. He could use a fresh cup. Once he found the filters and coffee grounds, he went ahead and made enough coffee for two.
A flash of light from the counter across from him caught his eye. It was Grace’s phone. She received a text message.
She had several missed messages. Peter took her phone and checked it. He read the most recent one.
Boss: Next time you want to play hooky, have the decency of calling me first.
He wasn’t aware she had work today. If she wasn’t at home or at work, where was she?